Lois Is On Her Own

The door shut. Lois Lane lay there, amid the campy faux-African night, alone and in pain. Her ass ached as if she had been gored by a rhinoceros...and the image of that sight brought a bitter smile to the reporter's lips.

"Well, I've been on my own before," the reporter thought, and reached into an inner pocket of her jacket. The pills there were only aspirin and ibuprofen—not hard ****, but all she had, and if they took the edge off at all she could move, and if she could move then this wasn't the end of the world. She dry-swallowed the pills and cast about...as much as this looked like a porn set, it was actually a brothel, and that meant there had to be something...

The reporter's eyes caught on a dark, box-like shape. Arm over arm, she crawled on her belly...and smiled as she found a first-aid kit. The reporter opened it, rooted through the band-aids and surgical tape, and found a roll of white cotton gauze and a small packet of antiseptic cream. Working swiftly, the reporter unwound the whole thing, until she held a mass of fine soft fabric in her hand...and then steeled herself for what was about to come.

She opened the antiseptic cream with her teeth, poured the whole thing onto the fingers of her right hand, then reached backward. Touching her ass was like touching fire. The reporter froze, shaking, as the fluid-covered fingers touched her gaping, bleeding hole. Lois closed her eyes and counted to ten...and then, heart pounding, she worked the fingers in deeper, smearing the cream around the rim of her aching anus.

When it touched the wound, she nearly screamed. Tears came to her eyes, and she began to breathe in ragged gasps. Yet when she was done, either because of the cream or the pills, the reporter felt a little better.

It was with wet, shaking fingers that she drew the wad of gauze behind her...and working blindly, began to stuff the mass of cotton in her ass. Not all at once, because she knew it wouldn't fit. But pinching off a little at a time, Lois began to feed the gauze into her hole. The cotton would absorb the blood and encourage scabbing...or at least, that was what Lois hoped. How it would come out, when the time came, was something the reporter didn't like to think about. It was enough that she was pantsless, on the floor, feeding the gauze into her broken and bleeding ass...and she took her time with it, wadding the tissue carefully, pressing it in as deep as her fingers allowed...until, after an interminable time, Lois could feel the plug of cotton growing inside her ass. Somewhat comforting in its solid presence.

By the time the roll was finished, Lois was tamping the solid wad of cotton into place. Her ass still hurt, but she managed to raise herself up to her knees...and then crawling over to where her clothes and shoes lay, the reporter slowly dressed, and staggered to her feet.

Her fingers were foul, and the reporter's gait was unsure and unsteady as she tottered toward the door on her heels. Yet a determination came through Lois. Her ass wasn't healed, not by a long shot...but if she could keep moving, she could at least finish what she had come here to do tonight.